


Gossip Girl Season One Series

by Sophia_Bee



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21606601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: Original Summary: A series of fics that take on Season 1 of Gossip Girl from a Dair POV. Not a multi-chapter persay, but following along with the developments in S1. Multiple POVs, meaning I'll probably stick with mostly Dan and Blair, but I may throw in an Eric POV, or Serena.
Relationships: Dan Humphrey/Blair Waldorf
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Under Her Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Uploading my old Dair fics to AO3, this one is still a WIP after all these years. Maybe the new HBO series will inspire me to finish it. Originally published on 8/16/2014

Blair Waldorf will always remember the first time she kissed Dan Humphrey. It all started because Serena gets everything she wants.

Heads turn when Serena walks in a room, guys fall at her feet, for all Blair knows, Yale will want her just for her smile. It makes Blair's blood boil when she thinks about it. When the Gossip Girl blast hits with Serena spotted at the train station, back in town, not even bothering to call her best friend, Blair just smiles and pretends it's all okay, eats two orders of fries at lunch then throws them up in the bathroom. No one cares about Blair that day, everyone is talking about Serena.

Serena gets everything she wants.

When Blair learns that what Serena wanted a year ago was Blair's boyfriend, her Natey, who Blair has been in love with since kindergarten, who she is going to marry and make perfect little Upper East Side babies with, Blair decides things have gone too far. This is way beyond showing up to school with the same Prada dress Blair had worn a few days before, although lately Serena seems to be into throwing on any old thing and looking like a model ,so there's not a lot of danger of fashion duplication. But Nate? Her Nate? This is time for serious revenge.

The brunch is a typical affair, everyone dressed in their finest, drinking just a little too much champagne, Nate by her side, a doting, apologetic puppy whose regret only manages to irritate her, Chuck leaning back in his chair, watching different women through hooded, scotched-up eyes. Blair thinks she's happy. Well, as happy as someone whose boyfriend had cheated on her with her best friend could be. If she's not really happy , at least she is queen, sitting at the table, everyone laughing her wry observations, and there is no Serena.

Until she walks in.

"You've got to be kidding," Blair murmurs when she sees her former BFF across the room, tall, golden as always, and Blair feels like all of the sudden the entire world turns away from her and towards Serena. S. is wearing a short white dress and her hair has that perfectly fashionable tousled look that so many girls work hard to get and Blair suspects Serena got from waking up and rolling out of bed. She's irritatingly gorgeous.

Bitch.

There is no end to Blair's hatred of her best friend at that moment. All the late nights and slumber parties and dishing on boys flies out the window. She doesn't care that Serena has held her hair back as she vomited into the toilet after a night of too much vodka. She doesn't care about any of that. All she knows is that Serena is back and Blair has returned to number two.

Standing next to Serena is some guy, another one of her random suitors, slack jawed, starry eyed over the golden girl. Blair's seen them before and they're all the same. Madly in love with Serena, and she's madly in love with them, until she isn't anymore, and then they're gone, another in their place, an ever rotating door of adoration. Heaven forbid should Serena not be loved.

This one has dark hair and dark eyes, and he's underdressed for brunch at the Plaza. Poor sap. He's looking around nervously, eyes darting, taking in a room that is now staring his way, and Blair can hear Serena's name whispered all around her. Blair glances over at Nate who is staring at Serena, mouth open, and Blair kicks him under the table.

She might explode.

Blair should walk up to Serena, make a scene, tell her that she has some nerve showing up here, but she doesn't. She should call her bitch, whore, slut, for sleeping with her Nate. She has another idea. It's time she takes something Serena wants.

She waits. Blair sips her mimosa and eats two croissants, well aware how far away the bathroom is. She dabs her fingers on the white cloth napkin and smiles sweetly at Nate, ignores Chuck, but always watches Serena, waiting. Watches them across the room, dark head and light head bent together, and Serena's laugh has always had a way of rising above the din, so she can hear across the room, see her smile. Blair burns with anger.

Finally the moment comes. Serena's boy toy stands up, says something to her and heads towards the bathroom. Blair leans over to Nate, tells her she's going to freshen up, and follows quickly. It doesn't take long before she catches him, tapping him on the shoulder, taking in a deep breath when he turns around.

"Blair Waldorf," she says, putting out a hand, waiting for him to take it, a fake smile plastered across her face. He looks surprised and uncomfortable, and doesn't take her hand immediately, but when he does his grip is surprisingly strong.

"Dan Humphrey," he says back.

Blair holds back a sneer at his unfortunately common name. Humphrey. It doesn't really roll off the tongue, more like drops like a lead weight. He'll never fit in, even if he thinks he can, even with Serena by his side. Instead she smiles and steps towards him, her spine straight, her chest pushed towards him, and Blair knows that she has nice breasts, the kind that are not too big and not too small, and she's about to use them to her advantage.

Dan steps backwards, her hand still in his and Blair smiles devilishly. This should be easy, to have this boy under her spell. She licks her lips and puts a hand up to his chest, pushing him backwards one more step, then another, until he's standing with his back against the dull brown corridor wall, staring down at her with a somewhat bewildered look on his face. Blair knows that there's just one more thing that will seal the deal, that will turn his eyes from Serena. She presses herself against him, pushing him further against the wall, tilts her head up and places her lips on his.

It is supposed to be a simple kiss, or a not so simple kiss, but whatever would drive this Dan Humphrey person wild and drive Serena right out of his head. Blair likes it when boys want her and having another slobbering fool tripping over himself was of no consequence, especially if it means that just one time, Serena loses and Blair wins. That was the plan, until her lips press against his and electricity shoots through her body with so much force that Blair almost gasps out loud. She assumes Dan Humphrey is having a similar response, because he hands are coming up her back and he is kissing her back and suddenly Blair realized she is pushing her hips into his in an almost wanton fashion, and this is an entirely new feeling, nothing she'd ever feels with Nate, who mostly kisses her when he is stoned out of his mind and their makeout sessions tend to feel sloppy and unrefined.

Blair whimpers.

Shit.

They break apart, Dan leaning against the wall with his chest heaving, staring at the girl who had come out of nowhere and laid one on him. Blair touches her swollen lips with her fingers and steps backwards, away from what her body is pulling her towards.

"What the hell," Dan starts, watching her with darkened eyes. Blair can't say anything, just turns away and runs back towards the brunch. When she gets back to the table she tells Nate she doesn't feel good, wants to go home. He absently agrees and calls the town car around to the front. In a few hours the kiss is forgotten pushed to the back of her mind and Blair is back on her usual thought pattern: Yale, losing it to Nate, hating Serena.

She never got to call Serena a slut or a whore.

The second time she kisses Dan Humphrey it's unexpected.

She is eating lunch on the steps of the Met when he comes up to her, entirely unaware that the rules dictate that no one talks to Queen B without permission, and certainly not a Humphrey from Brooklyn, surely one of the scholarship kids at the school. No one Blair would give the time of day. He has a cup of coffee in each hand and when he tries to hand one to her, she rolls her eyes.

Blair Waldorf does not take charity. Especially from someone from Brooklyn. He hands it to Nelly instead, who smiles, and Blair ignores the feeling of irritation that triggers.

She'll never tell him she knows he's from Brooklyn. It would mean he'd would know she's been checking up on him, and she hasn't really. She just happened to ask around about the Humphrey family and found out that his little sister, a fresh-scrubbed blonde with big boobs and a way too unjaded attitude, goes to Constance and that Dan is at St. Jude, and that he writes obnoxious poetry. She's guessing he's written more than one poem about Serena, dedicated to her beauty, sappy lines about how the unattainable has finally become his. She's seen them, walking arm in arm after school, Serena laughing, and Blair wonders if she ever doesn't laugh. Does she ever realize her effect on the people around her, because if she did, maybe she would realize what a bitch she is and be a little less happy.

"What...what was that the other day," Dan starts and Blair glares at him, horrified that he's violated the unspoken code that they never talk in public, let alone talk about the way she'd slammed him against a wall at the Palace and kissed him. Doesn't this bumpkin from practically the Ozarks know the rules? Blair jumps to her feet, grabs him by the hand and pulls him away from the group quickly, ignoring the twittering of Nelly and Penelope behind her. Blair will find a way to explain this away. Tell them she is playing a joke, pretending to hire that destable band his father plays in. They'll believe her. They always do.

"Stay the hell away from me," Blair hisses as she drags Dan behind her. They round the corner of the building and she ducks into a stairwell leading to a basement door, shirking into the vestibule, mostly hidden from passers by.

"What happened the other day was nothing," Blair says, shrinking against the wall, glancing around nervously. She notices at this point that his hand is still in hers, primarily because its warmth is sending shockwaves up her spine and Blair realizes that her mouth is hanging open and she's staring at Dan, and he's watching her lips.

Fuck.

"I have a boyfriend." Blair spits out, grasping for control. "Nate. We've been dating since kindergarten. We're going to Yale together. I'm going to marry him."

Dan is still watching her lips.

"I'm dating Serena," he says almost absently, distracted. She doesn't want to think about what's distracting him. Blair feels heat climb up her neck.

"Oh, you're dating now?" Blair asks bitingly. If she'd had any doubts, Dan bringing up Serena washes them away. She's back to Serena, back to her plan to destroy her.

"Oh, well, not entirely dating..." Dan stammers, "maybe seeing each other, you know, hanging out..."

Blair smiles knowingly. Serena again, in 100% but not really, dating but not really. It will be a matter of time before she's tired of Dan, moves on, leaving another broken heart in her wake. But this time it will be Serena whose heart breaks, because she's going to know what it feels like when your boyfriend cheats on you.

"What was your name again," Blair asks, making her eyes wide, feigning ignorance. Dan rolls his eyes.

"Dan. Dan Humphrey."

"Humphrey," his name rolls off her tongue. Blair sniffs the air. "You smell like pork."

A small smile flickers across his face, and Blair knows he's not sure if he should be offended or amused. Blair likes this, likes that she insults him and he just laughs. Blair moves closer to him. She grabs the lapels of his St. Jude's jacket. She hears Dan gulp and then his head is bending down and his mouth is on hers and Blair feels everything start to spin.

This time the kiss is more insistent, crushing, and Blair feels like she's hanging on to Dan, swept away by a tidal wave, and he's sucking on her bottom lip, worrying it with his teeth, then he's kissing her again, she opens her mouth more and his tongue is slipping against hers. Good god, what is going on. In what alternate reality is Blair clinging to the boy Serena is slumming with, kissing him, liking it.

Dan's hands come up, slide across her uniform blouse, over her breasts, making Blair shiver, to the buttons of her shirt and he starts to pop them open, and Blair aches like she's never ached for anyone. Well, like she's never ached for Nate, since he's the only guy she's ever made out with, and this is a million times improved. He makes his way down her uniform blouse, one button after another, until its hanging open and Blair's La Perla bra is exposed. She break away, stares up at this boy with his short dark hair and strong jaw line, and his hand goes to the clasp in the front and flicks it open.

Blair gasps.

The sound brings reality rushing in and she pulls away quickly, grabbing her shirt, wrapping it around her, hiding her breast whose nipples have hardened with the cold air.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Blair snaps, feeling self-conscious and modest all of the sudden.

"Second base?" Dan says, that small flicker of a smile playing across his lips again. Blair would feel slightly amused if she wasn't busy holding onto her facade of indignation. Blair buttons up her blouse with shaking fingers.

"Second base?" she asks. "What, is that some lame 90s slang you picked up from your washed up dad?"

Dan blinks and Blair knows she's pushed too far, and for some reason she kind of cares. She wants to take back the words, but Dan is throwing the book bag he'd dropped in the process of kissing her and feeling her up over his shoulder and walking away from her.

"See you later, Waldorf."

"Not if I see you first," Blair shoots back, sounding lame and 90s herself.

The third time Blair Waldorf kisses Dan Humphrey, it's a complete surprise.

She's walking down the hallway at Constance, her book bag heavy on her back, when someone grabs her arm and pulls her through a door. It's a dark and dingy closet, the walls lined with shelves that are stacked with papers, bins of pens and pencils. A bare bulb hangs from the ceiling casting the small space in a dim light. It smells musty and Blair wants to rub her nose that's starting to itch, but she doesn't have time because whoever pulled her is pushing her against the door, and Blair's book bag falls to the floor as she opens her mouth only to find whatever she was going to say blocked by his mouth.

Dan.

But she knew that already, knew the moment his hand grabbed her arm. Or maybe she was just hoping.

"What the hell?" Blair sputters as his lips move from her mouth to her neck and Blair breathes in sharply. She feels the heat starting to build and thinks that this might not be the best idea because nothing good will come of it. It started as a game but it's starting to feel like a lot more than that.

"I can't stop thinking about you." Dan whispers and Blair gasps as his lips move to the base of her throat. If she wasn't half out of her mind she might smile because her plan is working. Dan is still dating Serena. They are at parties together, coffee dates on the weekends, but here he is with Blair, skipping class, pulling her into a closet at Constance, telling her she's been on his mind.

If only she hadn't also been thinking about him she might think she'd pulled off the perfect take down. Except it appears that Dan Humphrey isn't the only one that's been taken down and Blair never expected when she decided to use her feminine wiles to destroy Serena Van der Woodsen, that she'd end up actually wanting her victim.

She wants him.

Blair grips Dan's face between her hands and brings his mouth back to hers, this time kissing him back with equal force, and his hand is on her leg, skimming up her thigh high stockings to the bare skin there, and Blair is struck by the fact that she wants more. So much more.

She should feel this way with Nate, should be driven to distraction, but everything about him feels like high school and this, this feels kind of grown-up. Her hands go to pull Dan's uniform shirt out of his pants, slipping under the waistband of his pants, his skin warm against her fingertips.

"Humphrey," Blair gasps, "What are we doing?"

The answer is simple. They are in a closet, making out, her hands skimming under his shirt, feeling the lean muscles on his back.

"Second base?" Dan says between kisses, and he's drinking her in like he's been parched, his mouth not wanting to leave hers. Blair chuckles a little. His fingers go to her blouse and this time Blair doesn't plan to protest. She wants him to touch her, to feel his hands on her breasts. His other hand is still on her thigh, so close to her groin that is aching and she grinds her hips forward.

"Please," Blair whispers, and the rawness of it seems to bring the moment to a screeching halt as both of them realize that they are on the edge of something bigger than either had anticipated. Blair had always thought she'd lose it to her boyfriend, blond and boring Nate, and here she was wanting more, something else, from a boy who isn't even close to part of her world, who won't be going to parties with her, won't be going to Yale, who Blair would never be seen with.

They break apart, both breathing hard, Blair can hear Dan breathing in and out. She looks down, stares at the floor, her fingers quickly doing up the buttons of her blouse.

"I'm sorry," Dan pants, tucking his shirt in. "I just..."

"It doesn't matter, Humphrey." Blair snaps. She's hot, bothered and annoyed that her plan has backfired so magnificently. She grabs her bag and pushes the door open, not really caring who sees Blair Waldorf exiting a supply closet. She turns around to see Dan just standing there, staring after her.

"Don't leave right away," she snaps. "I don't want anyone to think we were together."

The eleventh time Blair Waldorf kisses Dan Humphrey, it's for entirely different reasons.

Blair makes a decision. She's going to Brooklyn. She puts on her nicest lingerie and nothing else, covers up with a coat and tells the driver the address she managed to get from Jenny Humphrey that day during homeroom. Blair twists her ruby ring as the town car heads to Brooklyn, excited and nervous at the same time.

When Dan Humphrey opens the door to the loft, Blair steps in and looks around and decides it's not that bad. It's certainly not Manhattan.

"Is your dad home?" she asks a very surprised Dan who is stuttering something, asking what she's doing.

"Uh, no."

"What about Little-J?"

"Out with some friends."

"She has friends?"

Dan shoots Blair a warning look.

"What do you want, Waldorf?"

It's not like they haven't been making out in all different convert places for the last month, ducking into doorways, closets, even the boys bathroom once. They never talk, just devour each other until they are both panting and bothered and wanting more. It's a frustrating exercise and Blair has decided it ends tonight.

"Do you have a condom?" she asks slyly. Blair is amused when Dan's eyes grow wide and he swallows. Blair undoes the jacket she's wearing and she's standing there in nothing but a black bra and panties.

"Uh, y...y...yes." Dan stammers. "I think I have one in my wallet, or my dresser drawer, or..."

Blair shuts Dan up by kissing him, placing her lips on his and pressing lightly, then a little harder, and he's kissing her back, and they are moving in some direction, stumbling towards soemthing, Blair's not quite sure.

"Bedroom?" she gasps.

"This way," Dan says, his hands wrapping around her waist, then his mouth is back on hers.

They make their way into his bedroom, and Blair barely has time to note that it's cramped, books lining the walls and in piles on the floor, a black notebook open with a pen next to it and she briefly thinks that he'd better not have written a poem about her, because this isn't the type of thing you write poetry about. It's the type of thing you take to your grave.

Dan lays her on his bed and he lowers himself on top of her, pressing his body against hers and Blair feels the heat build even more. He's undoing her bra and her breast fall free, nipples hard, and Blair gasps as his mouth moves down to them and he teases them with his tongue. Blair feels urgency now and her thumbs hook into her panties, pulling them down and Dan is rolling off her, undoing his jeans, pulling his shirt over his head, and then he's back, filling the space between them, skin on skin, and Blair spreads her legs, arches her back, pushes up towards him.

She's wet. She's felt this way before, during heavy petting session with Nate when she thought she might be ready to go all the way but he fell asleep before she could tell him, and she ended up climbing out of bed and getting dressed, leaving him snoring softly. But now she needs to have some sort release, something to break the tension, because her body feels wound up and tight, and she knows that one thing will resolve this.

"Are you sure," Dan asks, staring down into her face, and for a moment Blair thinks that this could be more. Maybe it's not just a quick fuck in Brooklyn. Maybe it could be a lifetime, with marriage and babies and a forever kind of love. But this is Dan Humphrey, not Nate, not a boy of similar status, and that moment flees as quickly as it comes.

"I'm sure," Blair says breathily. Dan feels around the bed and find a shiny condom wrapper, rips it open, then rolls it over his erect penis. Blair props herself up on her elbows and watches him, her eyes heavy-lidded, her breathing fast. When he rolls back toward her, Blair lies back and spreads her legs, feeling his hips settle between her thighs. He slides inside her, slowly, a little tentative, and Blair gasps.

"Oh god," It's strange, it hurts a little, it's good. Oh, it's so good.

"Blair."

They are still for a moment, staring into each others eyes, then Dan starts to move, a little uncoordinated, not quite getting the rhythm right, until they do, and then the move together, sweet friction, skin on skin, sweat mingling, Dan's mouth on hers, her hands clawing at his back, wanting him closer, closer, until Blair feels everything tighten up, and she throws her head back and has an organsm that far surpasses anything she's ever achieved on her own.

"Fuck," Blair mutters as Dan comes as well, shuddering and shaking above her, then collapses onto her, his face buried in her hair.

When they are done, Blair rolls out of bed and pulls her clothes back on. Dan lies there, watching her.

"Did this really happen?" he asks as Blair tightens the belt of her coat.

"Only in your dreams, Humphrey," Blair barely manages to snap, feeling post-coital and relaxed, and slightly less annoyed than usual. If they were any other two people they might cuddle or go get something to eat, but they're not. They're Dan and Blair, and they're not ready for a Waldorf-Humphrey relationship, let alone the rest of the world.

Blair will always remember the first time she fucked Dan Humphrey.

It all started because Serena gets everything she wants, but in the end, Blair gets nothing, not even revenge. Because there's something about Dan Humphrey that crawls under her skin and stays there, and no matter how much she tries, she can't shake him.

And one thing she's sure of is that the first time won't be the last.


	2. Jealousy

They ignore each other.

When Blair walks out of the Bendels to find Dan talking to Serena she ignores the way her stomach twists with something she might call jealousy if she thought about it. After all, it's not like they have any type of agreement, other than how fast he can get his clothes off when she lures him into the back of her limo on her way home from school, or how many minutes apart they leave their favorite supply closet at Constance.

Dan is holding a white paper bag and watching Serena with those dark brown eyes when he glances over at Blair, who has sidled up to the both of them and stands there with her arms crossed on a sneer on her face. She sees him lick his lips and wishes he wouldn't do that because all it makes her think about is the way he kisses her sometimes, slow, languid, taking his time, and how much she likes it.

Serena is giddy, tossing her hair, giggling as she talks to Dan and Blair rolls her eyes, because despite her failed plan for revenge against S., despite them being back to their former status of besties, Serena still has a way of stealing everything, and this time it's Dan Humphrey. Sort of because Blair isn't sure how someone can steal something that she doesn't have in the first place.

Dan smiles when he sees her, a strange, uncomfortable flicker of a grin, and he's glancing at her lips, and Blair feels that heat crawling again. If they look at each other this way much longer it might become obvious, so Blair steps up to Dan, clears her throat and hurls her first insult.

"What's that I smell?"

He looks uncomfortable, nervous. Blair is close to him, so close...

"Pork?"

Dan swallows and their eyes meet, his full of surprise, hers full of mischief. She knows he remembers that day at the Met, her hands on his lapel, kissing her. Blair starts to burn. She opens her mouth again.

"And cheese?"

Dan laughs. Blair thinks she'll pay for this later. She thinks she's okay with the price. Blair grabs Serena's arm and marches her away, far away from Dan Humphrey and his sandwich, and she is home free. They are back to dishing and talking about the photoshoot that Blair will be doing, and no more Humphrey interruptus.

Serena hooks her arm through Blair's and smiles.

"I'm so glad we're friends again," she says, leaning her head onto Blair's shoulder as they walk down the street. Blair doesn't answer. As always, everything with Serena feels like it comes with a price, and Blair just doesn't know what it is yet. She always feels like everything is about to come tumbling down when it comes to S., and she can never fully relax and trust that anything is really going to work out.

Serena is prattling on about how great the photoshoot will be but Blair is thinking about something else. She curses herself because she's still thinking about Humphrey. Who would ever think Blair Waldorf wouldn't be able to get Brooklyn out of her mind.

"So, are you and that, um, Humphrey person..." Blair finally ventures. Serena stops walking and brushes her hair out of her face.

"Don't start Blair," Serena says plaintively.

"What?" Blair asks innocently, blinking.

"I like him."

Her stomach twists again.

"He's not one of us," Blair says dismissively, with practiced disdain. "It'll never work."

What she doesn't say is that maybe she doesn't want it to work. She doesn't say this because Blair is sure that she doesn't care what Dan Humphrey does with his time, who he dates, because all he is to her is a good fuck, a throw-away boy toy. She's sure she doesn't care at all.

"Blair," Serena pleads, "please. I really like him."

Blair rolls her eyes. Serena really likes him. And croissants. And that Prada bag they just saw in the window at Bendels. Serena liking anything is neither here nor there, and she'll like it until she doesn't and likes something else. But her eyes are wide and sincere and Blair gives in, because Dan Humphrey is nothing and Serena is her best friend, and she doesn't care anyway.

Except she does care.

They stop for coffee then keep walking, bags swinging from their wrists, Blair feeling kind of happy. Serena tells her she has to go and Blair makes her promise to come to the photo shoot later that day. Serena smiles sincerely and takes Blair's hand in hers.

"Of course, B." she sighs. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Blair eats two sandwiches and throws them up before the photo shoot. Her stomach is doing flips as the camera flashes, the clothes feeling too tight and Blair feels hot and uncomfortable. She smiles, trying to think about Audrey Hepburn and Twiggy and anyone else famous and beautiful, anyone else Blair would like to be. The one person Blair never pictures is Blair Waldorf. She sees the hard look in the photographer's eyes, sees his mouth turn down, and he's whispering to the creative director, and Blair has a sinking feeling in her stomach. She's not good enough. Again. She never good enough.

Serena is there and somehow she knows Blair is drowning. She makes Blair laugh and for a moment she's free of all the self-consciousness and insecurities that usually follow her. For a moment she's Serena, no more Yale or living up to her mother's expectations or pressure to have the perfect boyfriend and the perfect life. She's carefree. She understands why the world loves the golden girl, how they get lost in her smile, drown in her eyes.

For a moment Blair loves Serena in the same way the rest of the world does. For a moment she forgets how Serena can cut. Then the moment is gone, evaporating with the ring of a cell phone and Serena turns away from her, her voice low, laughing.

Humphrey.

Blair watches her, standing in front of the backdrop, her stomach twisting in that strange way again, and she decides that Serena will not have Dan. Not tonight at least. Blair's face grows hard and her eyes narrow, and when Serena turns back to her, Blair is ready with her eyes wide, her lip trembling, begging Serena to stay.

"I need you," Blair says, watching Serena waver. "Can't whatever it is wait?"

"But I promised..."

"Please."

Serena manages to look conflicted for another minute, then she capitulates and Blair feels the wash of victory. Dan won't be seeing Serena tonight. Blair wonders why she's so happy. When they are done and Serena heads home, Blair climbs into the back of her limo and sends the driver in a different direction.

"Who would buy this crap?" Blair says as she walks into the gallery Dan's washed-up dad owns. He's standing behind the counter, sorting paperwork and looks up when he hears her voice.

"Waldorf."

"Humphrey."

"I thought you needed Serena's help."

Blair smiles and walks towards him.

"She's gone home."

"And you came here?"

"Thought I'd do you a favor and increase the value of the kids art your dad hangs on the walls."

Dan laughs. Blair is standing on the other side of the counter now.

"Funny how I was supposed to have a date with Serena, and somehow you came between us. One might think..."

Blair walks around the counter. She stops just inches from Dan. His words trail off and he swallows.

"Don't flatter yourself." Blair murmurs, touching his chest, trailing a finger down the worn t-shirt he's wearing. Dan shivers at her touch and Blair feels pleased. He clears his throat, struggling for control.

"Um, be careful or I might think that you're kind of, um, jealous."

His eyebrows go up and Blair feigns indignation like only she can.

"In your dreams, Humphrey."

He opens his mouth to say something, maybe to tell her that she is in his dreams, that in his dreams she cares who he sees, but Dan knows better and shuts it quickly, which is fortunate, because Blair is winding her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes and touching her mouth to his in what quickly becomes a crushing kiss.

Dan moans. Blair presses herself even closer.

"Backroom?" Blair gasps. Dan nods. They break apart and he takes her by the hand, leading her through a door behind the counter. Blair doesn't even ask if this is okay, if he can leave his dad's gallery unattended. All she knows is that she's about to have Dan's lips on her skin, to have his hand spreading her thighs, to gasp his name, and he's not at the movies with Serena.

When they're done, Blair rolls of Dan and starts to pull on her clothes.

"Serena invited me to the photo shoot tomorrow." Dan says, watching her through hooded eyes. Blair's stomach twists.

"Okay," she says.

"Does that bother you?" he asks.

Blair feels a different kind of burn.

"No," she lies.

"You're not jealous. This is all okay with you?" Dan asks, "us doing this and me dating Serena."

"I thought you were just hanging out." Blair snaps.

Dan rolls his eyes.

"You know what I mean."

Blair smiles her best fake smile.

"Why would it bother me?" She throws her bag over her shoulder and turns to leave. Then she turns back around, "Serena can slum with whoever she wants. See you tomorrow, Humphrey."

The next time Blair sees Dan she just wishes he would just go away. She's sprawled in the hallway, her makeup smeared, crying because her mother has managed to hurt her yet again. She thinks she should be used to this by now. Never being good enough. Serena always getting what Blair wants. Nate. Probably Yale. Her mother. Modeling. Dan.

Dan.

She banishes the thought. He's not on the list of things she wants in life.

He walks up to her, shoes clicking on the cement floor, and Blair looks up and manages to throw an insult at him. It's the only thing that makes her feel better, and she watches as he flinches a little then smiles. He smiles. Blair grimaces back and rolls her eyes. Dan looks at her, his eyes kind, caring. Blair feels her heart clench. He slides down the wall to the floor and they sit there in silence. It's strange.

This isn't how they spend their time together. There's never any talking, minus the random insult Blair manages to fling before Dan is kissing her and she's pulling his uniform shirt out of his waistband. There's plenty of silence, except for the sound of kissing, Blair moaning and the sound of Dan ripping the wrapper off yet another condom. But this, sitting together, Blair radiating sadness, Dan just being with her. This is different.

He tells her a story. Something about his mother, and Blair wants to roll her eyes again and tell him that she doesn't care about some wannabe artist in Hudson, but she doesn't. Instead she listens and when she does, she sees that he is hurt, and for some reason Blair cares. Why does she care? He tells her that he's sorry he's been silent about how his mother has hurt him. So is Blair. She's been hurt by her mother too, and she's sorry. For both of them.

When he's done, they sit in silence again, and if they were two other people there might be hugs, or laughter, something to break the tension, but Blair is fine with the tension. After a while Dan gets up, says something about Serena. Blair blinks. Oh yeah, Serena. Serena and Dan. Dating, or whatever.

Her stomach twists. She sits there, watching him walk down the hallway, watching him walk away from her, and for one moment she wants to call out his name. She knows he'll stop, turn around and come back to her. She wants him to come back to her, to sit back down, to stay with her. Because for the first time in a long time Blair actually feels better.

When Blair finally wipes her eyes and fixes her makeup, she returns to the set and stops, staring at what she sees there. Dan and Serena are standing together, Serena smiling, brushing a strand of hair back off her face. Dan is smiling back and Blair feels something that might seem like pain. Actual pain. At that moment she finally realizes what that strange feeling in her gut has been lately.

I want this. I want him. I want Dan.

She should turn around, walk away, but she doesn't. Because it doesn't matter what she wants. If it's Dan Humphrey, it's never going to happen anyway. Queen Bee and Lonely Boy are never going to be anything but a quick makeout session in the hall closet. If she walks away, she'll never see him again, and Blair isn't ready to let go of what little she has.

Blair swallows and puts a smile on her face. This time it's genuine, because she's come to understand that if Dan likes Serena, Serena is lucky. She's also come to realize that she can never win when it comes to Serena. So she smiles warmly and insults Dan's shoes and hair, and he looks at her quizzically, and she looks back with something genuine in her eyes this time. No insults. No disdain. Just Blair. He starts a little and the way he looks at her, it's like she can't breathe, but then the moment passes and she's back to being Head Bitch in Charge and Dan is back to being some loser from Brooklyn.

Blair will smile and pretend everything is okay. She'll tell her mother to go to hell then she and Serena will go have a girls day out in the city. Then she'll go home that night, crawl into bed and cry. Because despite everything she's gained, despite standing up to her mother and getting her best friend back, Blair has lost yet again.


	3. The First Rule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original author note: this is Dan POV and takes place during Dare Devil.

Dan has learned not to ask questions.

He's caught between two worlds, Brooklyn and the Upper East Side. He's caught between two girls, one blonde and sunny, the other one dark, destructive and drives him wild. Dan feels like he's walking tightrope, waiting to tip over the edge at any moment and he has no idea where he would land. He has an idea where he would like to land, but Blair has made it clear that what they're doing is nothing more and nothing less than what it already is. There is no future for them and there's not a past either. Blair has made that very clear. If anyone ever connects them together, if they became Dan and Blair in anyone's mind, she would deny everything.

"You're like a food truck," Blair declares one day as she's quickly undoing the belt on his pants with deft fingers. They are in their closet, the only place Dan and Blair exist, their postage stamp sized boudoir.

Dan rolls his eyes.

"Really, Waldorf. I'm like a food truck?"

"Yes Humphrey, hang in there with me on this one."

He doesn't want to hang in there because she's pulling his shirt out of his pants now and he's starting to breath a little faster.

"I'd never be caught dead eating at a food truck. I'm more your Masa kind of girl," Blair says as she flicks open one button of his shirt then another, "but every once in awhile I put on my sunglasses and a black coat and head out to Daisy Mae's Chili Cart."

"So, I'm the chili cart in this story?" Dan says in a bemused tone, already knowing the answer. Blair smiles up at him. His shirt is open and she's running her hands up his chest. Dan shivers.

"You're not Masa, Humphrey."

Dan has had enough of the food talk. He kisses Blair, who, for someone who insists that they're about sex and only sex, she tends to do a lot of talking, and most of the talking involved insulting Dan. He doesn't mind, most of the time it just make him laugh, because for some reason the girl who he described to his father recently as being a 95 pound, doe eyed, bonmot tossing, label whoring, package of girly evil, amuses him to no end. Maybe because ever since the day found her crying in the hallway, Dan has known she's a lot more than the Head Bitch in Charge persona she throws at the world. Maybe it's because she always smiles when she insults him, biting her lip, and he thinks that's when she looks the sexiest.

When they are done and Blair is checking her makeup in her compact, Dan is knotting his school tie, Blair asks almost too casually.

"So, you're going out with Serena tomorrow night?"

Dan nods and thinks again that he's somehow trapped in bizzaro world. Ask him a month ago if he'd be dating the prettiest girl in the school and fucking her borderline evil counterpart on the down low, Dan would have asked if that was a short story you were conjuring up, maybe suggested submitting it to the New Yorker as a piece of fiction. Or better yet, Playboy. Yet here he was, stuck between them, Serena completely unaware.

"Yeah, but, um, should I really be talking to you about this?"

Blair rolls her eyes.

"Of course, Humphrey. We're friends, right?"

Dan thinks they're friends at this moment only because Blair has an agenda. He eyes her warily.

"Yes, Blair, we're going out tomorrow night."

"Know what you're going to do?" Blair is adjusting her skirt as she talks to him.

Dan actually doesn't know. He's been thinking about it and he wants his first date with Serena to be something perfect. She's so beautiful, she deserves perfect, like in fairy tales and movies, and Dan Humphrey from Brooklyn has no idea how to give that to her.

"No," Dan admits. "I was thinking maybe a movie, something foreign...there's a showing of La Dolce Vita"

Blair laughs.

"Oh, I love La Dolce Vita, but Serena is not the foreign film type..."

"No?"

"She hates subtitles. They confuse her. Now, if you were to go for a meet-cute rom com with some vacuous popular actress..."

Dan rolls his eyes.

"See, not a foreign film type."

"Okay, what do you suggest?"

Blair's smile widens and there's a glint in her eye that makes Dan feel a little uncomfortable.

"Classy," Blair says decisively. "Nice dinner. Rent a town car. Serena isn't going to want to go all Brooklyn down and dirty. I could get you into Masa if you'd like..."

Dan flinches. Masa. It's a fancy place, and really expensive. He swallows. Serena deserves the best, doesn't she. He tells Blair he'll take her up on her offer and she looks strangely satisfied, and it's that look on her face he remembers the next night as he decides for the first time that evening he's going to kill her.

Serena is sitting on the Vespa that was unfortunately parked outside the Palace Hotel going on about her time in Rome and Dan feels like he's about two inches tall. It's pretty clear the date he's planned isn't the one Serena was expecting. She's laughing, her eyes sparkling and even though he's dying from embarrassment, he's still struck by how beautiful she is.

The second time he decides he's going to kill Blair it's over duck. Seventy eight dollar duck, to be exact. Dan stabs at his plate, seeing Blair's face, remembering how she looked, satisfied, a little cruel, and Dan knew he was the butt of her joke. Serena is smiling across the table and looking strangely uncomfortable at a restaurant she should feel entirely comfortable at and Dan's stomach is rumbling because he's only eating a salad. They make small talk, her asking how his classes are, him asking her what it's like to model, and everything feels slightly off-kilter.

Finally the check comes and when Serena tells him she paid it, Dan feels his cheeks turn red. This has gone from bad to maybe his worst date ever, and for some reason Dan kind of cares. He may be sleeping with Blair, but Blair has made it clear that's all she's interested in. Serena is beautiful and fun and full of life, and he feels amazing when he's around her. She's like a glass of champagne, sparkling, bubbly and intoxicating, the kind of thing that you don't realize you've had enough of until you've had too much.

"I want a real Humphrey date," Serena says with that smile again. Dan ponders what that would be. A movie. A visit to a museum. Somehow he doesn't think Serena would like to head to The Met to gaze at paintings. Dan thinks back to something Blair has said more than once.

Serena is slumming.

They end up in a dive bar in Williamsburg. It's not the kind of place that Dan usually hangs out. It smells like old stale cigarette smoke and at least two people glare at them when they tumble through the door laughing. He wants to throw out a quote from The Hustler, but he thinks Serena probably won't get it.

She laughs, sits on the edge of the pool table, her legs long and tan and they go on forever, and she asks him to teach her how to hold the stick right. Dan places his hand on her waist, feels her lean against him, soft, tentative, and Dan thinks how different she is than Blair, who is a force of nature, and Dan feels like he's always scrambling to keep upright when she's around, although it seems like her goal is to keep him as horizontal as possible as often as possible.

Blair.

Despite Serena being close, and smelling good, and despite the fact that he wants to kiss her, Dan's thoughts wander back to a day, not so long ago. Dan remembers lying across Blair's bed, spent, splayed out, watching her with eyes that are drooping with sleep.

"It's like we have a secret club," Blair says as she leafs through a magazine. She is sitting propped up against the headboard, pillows piled behind her, naked, reading the New Yorker. She makes quite the picture and Dan pauses for a moment, admiring her. They don't usually get to spend this much time together and they're usually in darkness or questionable lighting. He thinks she's beautiful, perfect...

It was one of those rare times when they could actually meet somewhere a little more comfortable, and Dan sinks further into her bed, enjoying the feel of luxury cotton sheets, and he's not surprised Blair has the best. Blair's mom is in Paris and Dorota is shopping, and Blair told him that if he used the freight elevator no one would see him. Dan had slunk up to her penthouse, feeling a little like the hired help and not sure if he liked that feeling.

"A sex club." Dan laughs.

"And what's the first rule of Sex Club?" Blair asks, a sly smile spreading across her face. She puts her magazine down and pulls herself up onto her knees.

"You do not talk about Sex Club," Dan and Blair say in unison, then Blair collapses onto the bed in a fit of giggles. Dan watches her, bemused, because this isn't the way Blair is around him. She's usually all business about getting down to business, insulting him, telling him to stop talking and start fucking. This Blair, the one who is laughing at him, isn't the Blair he's grown used to.

"So, this is Sex Club?" Dan asks, propping himself up on one elbow, his eyes locked with hers, and he sees something, something that he can't graps, that slips away as quickly as it appeared... It's a moment. Just a brief one, then it's gone and Blair is grabbing a pillow.

"Rule #1, bitch!" Blair shouts. She lifts the pillow and aims it at Dan's side, whacking him hard. He laughs. Then, not being able to help himself, Dan opens his mouth again.

"Have you ever heard of Sex Club?"

Blair laughs harder, swings her pillow again. Dan winces comically, clutches his side, pretending to be wounded.

"Rule #2, bitch." Blair tries to sound serious but can't help but giggle again. Dan lunges at her and Blair squeals, scrambling to get away, but she doesn't try that hard and Dan ends up lying on top of her, pinning her arms above her head, looking down at her.

"What about the seventh rule, Waldorf?" Dan asks, smiling.

"Oh come one, I didn't like the movie THAT much, Humphrey" Blair grins up at him, breathing hard.

"Sex will go on as long as it has to."

Blair laughs and Dan feels it rumble against his chest. Her breasts are pressed against him and he can feel the fire start to creep up his spine. He wants her. He's never wanted anyone like this.

"Only if you can keep up," Blair says, licking her lips. Dan dips his head down and captures her mouth in a kiss that threatens to consume both of them.

Now, standing next to Serena, his arms around her, Dan does the same thing. He dips his head and captures her mouth in a kiss. A sweet, simple kiss and he hears Serena sigh a little, feels her lean in towards him, and in a move that's brash for a first kiss, she brings her hand up and tangles it in his hair and pulls him closer.

It's nice.

Dan kisses her again.

It's sweet.

She kisses him back, and he pulls her closer.

It's not Blair.

Fuck.

He doesn't think about it. He just keeps kissing Serena, because she tastes like candy and her smile lights up a room and he's watched her from afar forever. He doesn't think about it, because the fairy tale isn't a dark haired girl with smouldering eyes who drives him wild, it's an easy smile and a joyful laugh that makes heads turn. It's a girl who wants to be with him, Dan Humphrey, son of a washed up rock and roll star, and she's not embarrassed and she doesn't want to hide. He keeps kissing her because with Serena there is a beginning and with Blair there is nothing. He keeps kissing her because Serena is his future and anything else, well he just can't think about it.

Because if he does, Dan will realize that he and Blair have the first rule all wrong. The first rule of Sex Club is don't fall in love.


	4. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original author note: Blair POV, takes place during Victor Victrola. Dan is dating Serena. Blair is falling apart.

Her life has been cracking around the edges for a long time now.

Hairline spidery fractures that spread across the walls that Blair has put up around her, threatening the lies she tells herself. Yale. Nate. Dan. Every time a crack appears she grasps for control, ends up with her knees on the cold floor of yet another dirty bathroom floor, retching into the toilet, ends up in Brooklyn not wanting to talk, pushing Dan backwards towards his bed, straddling him without preamble or pretense. Retching, fucking, they are what keep her pieces glued together. Blair's whole life is about holding everything together with bits and pieces of control, waiting for the moment that everything comes tumbling down.

She doesn't know the moment that things actually start to fall apart. There's nothing she can really point to.

Maybe it was when Jenny told her Nate wasn't over Serena. Maybe it was when all her dreams of marriage and babies came crashing down around her. Maybe it was when she walked up onto the stage, one step at a time, the crowd cheering, and she licked her lips and gave them a show. She'll never really know, but she does know that nothing will ever be the same. Not after that night.

Blair is sitting next to Chuck, the air around her thick with perfume and the smell of stale cigarettes, and she takes a sip of the champagne in her hand, feels the bubbles hit her stomach and explode, feels her head reel, and Blair briefly thinks that drinking on an empty stomach might be a recipe for disaster. She hadn't eaten much at dinner, unable to taste food when every time she looked at Nate, every time he glanced over at her, all she could think was that he doesn't love her. He loves Serena.

It's not like Blair hasn't evened the playing field with her Natey. He fucked Serena. She fucks Dan, pulling him into darkened doorways on rainy days, dropping her umbrella onto the trash littered ground as his hands start to undo the tie on her raincoat, laughing at his wet hair hanging in his eyes, making fun of his Macy's polyester tie, until his mouth is on hers, muffling the sound of her voice and the only thing left to do is moan because all she wants to do is feel him inside her. She thinks this might be worse than what Nate did with Serena, worse than him pushing up her skirt and spreading her legs on a bar, fucking her like some amature porn movie, because he only fucked Serena once and Blair can't stop. The difference is that she's not in love with Dan.

"I have moves," Blair murmurs, putting the empty champagne glass on the table, reaching for a full one. It's her second. Or third. She's not sure. She feels light, floating, set free.

Chuck glances over at her, his face skeptical. He doesn't believe her. She's the good girl, top of the class, the one who is always classy, always put together. She's not the girl on stage, letting the crowd live out their fantasies, men and women wanting her. That's not who she is, and the look on his face tells her that this is what he thinks. She won't do it.

Blair knows he's wrong.

She thinks of him. Dan. Brooklyn, his room smelling of books and dust, she thinks of bad poetry and too much coffee, and he's practically a cliche of teen angst, and she should hate him, but she doesn't. She wants him. She thinks of his dark eyes watching her, wanting her. He's always wanting her. She sees him glance at her as he pushes Serena against the wall in the courtyard, and she feels the heat start to spread as he fixes her with his sultry gaze the goes back to kissing Serena, devouring her the way he devours Blair at night in dark doorways, in hidden spaces, stolen moments and Blair bites her lips and wants him right there and then. She wishes he were in the club, not with Serena, his hand touching Blair's shoulder, making her shiver, and they would scurry to the bathroom where he could fuck her against the stall wall and Blair wouldn't care who heard her scream out his name.

Blair stands up. She brushes away her thoughts of Dan. They're useless, stupid. She walks toward the stage, feeling Chuck's eyes bore into her back, one step at a time, mounts the stairs the turns and stares out into the room, the sea of faceless, meaningless people who don't know who Blair Waldorf is, don't care about the brunette who is standing before them, only want her to give them a show.

He's with Serena tonight. They're fucking. Blair knows it. Serena's hands are running down Dan's chest, feeling the heat of his skin, and Blair knows how he'll moan, the way he'll close his eyes and throw his head back, grasping for control. Will he think of her? Will he barely keep her name from slipping off his tongue?

Blair pulls down the zipper of her dress and the crowd surges, moans, wants her. She smiles. She is powerful.

He's with Serena tonight. There might be candles, soft music, and he thinks he could love her. That's why he's there. Because she is easy and Blair is complicated, and it's clear they are only about the here and now, never about the future. Serena offers a future. He's placing his lips on the soft skin inside her arm, the way he does with Blair on those rare occasions they can actually go slow, when time isn't of the essence, and Blair knows Serena will gasp, that her eyes will flutter shut the same way Blair's always do.

The dress shimmies down her hips, fall to the floor in a puddle of silk and lace, the only thing left of Nate and her dream of marriage, a relic. She kicks it to the side, pushes it into the past. She's standing in her slip, her stance wide, strong, defiant, and the crowd cheers, the sound buoys her up.

Will Serena like it the way Blair likes it. Will Dan inside her make white light explode behind her eyes. Will she call his name?

Blair wants to forget.

Blair pushes a strap down her shoulder, lets it fall down her milky white skin. She invites the entire room to watch her, to drink in the way she moves, runs her tongue along her teeth, suggestive, and the room sighs again and everyone wants her. The men, the women, their eyes feasting on the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts, and they want her. Blair isn't the school girl with dreams of first love, she's not the head bitch in charge, she's not the perfect girlfriend. She's desire, sex, lust and her hands run over her hips, outlining her curves and she hears the sighs again, the thump of the music, smells musk, heat. Everyone wants her. Including the boy standing, watching her, his mouth open, drinking her in, and Blair feels powerful, in control. Everyone wants her. Except the person she wants.

He wants another.

She gives the audience a show, titillates them, teases with her hands, leans over, lets them see her ass, the way it swells out from the top of her legs, and she is liquid, melting, wanting.

It's not like Blair Waldorf hasn't been giving everyone a show for a long time. Her entire life is a performance, presenting the image that people expect, never the real Blair Waldorf. Never the girl in the hallway with mascara streaked down her cheeks. Only one person has seen what's behind the curtain.

Dan.

The air is crackling with tension and the music is thumping and Blair almost feels like she's floating out of her body, watching from the outside, an observer in her own life. She sees Chuck, his lips parted, his eyes lascivious, and she can almost read the lewd thoughts and Blair knows that she's not only tamed the crowd, not only captured them, she's enthralled Chuck Bass, for whom sex is a game, and now he stands there, watching her, wanting her, and Blair feels invincible.

She has nothing left to lose.

Nate. Dan. They want Serena. But here everyone wants her, and they will go home tonight and dream of her smokey eyes, imagine her lips on their skin, and they will find someone to make them scream, but when they come, when their body tightens and they arch back and find release, it will be her face they see.

Blair is wet, aching between her thighs, and as she dances, moves her hips, teases the room, she feels the desire building. She gazes through heavy lidded eyes, barely seeing the crowd, and the ache starts to edge towards unbearable when she feels a hand grab hers. Blair tears her gaze from the audience and she swears she hears a sigh of disappointment, looks down to find that Chuck is holding her hand in his.

"Blair," he gasps. Blair smiles. He pulls her towards him, off the stage, and for a moment she wants to resist, wants to stay there with the lights and the crowd and the music, but then her head starts to spin and she thinks maybe part of this is too many glasses of golden bubbly champagne and she's not sure if she's had three or four or even more than that.

"Let me take you home," Chuck purrs and Blair can't say no. Her dress is still in a heap on the stage and one of the dancers is stepping on it as she gyrates her hips, but Blair doesn't care as she stumbles through the crowd, pulled by Chuck, her skin starting to prickle as they near the exit door and she feels the cold night air rushing towards her. Chuck holds her up, wraps his arms around her as they wait for his limo to pull around, and he helps Blair inside where she collapses against the slick black leather, lets her head loll to the side.

She's entered into some kind of hell, a certain kind of darkness, with nothing behind her and nothing in front of her, and as she stares blankly into space all she can see is his face.

Dan.

He's not hers. Not after tonight. Maybe they'll still meet in their closet at Constance, and he'll still tug at her uniform shirt, still grown her name as she bites at his shoulder, but she'll have nothing and he'll have Serena.

He's fucking Serena tonight.

Blair turns and sees Chuck watching her, naked desire on his face, and for a moment Blair thinks that he's handsome, and they might look night together, darkness and darkness, and maybe she's not meant to have the perfect high school relationship or the star-crossed fairytale. Maybe she's supposed to rule the Upper East Side with this prince of darkness by her side, and acceptably rich and privileged counterpart for her scheming. The street lights flash through the windows of the limo, a pattern of light and dark on his face and Blair feels herself lean forward, towards him. Because she's been putting on a show for a long time and now the show is over and she has nothing left. Because she needs to suffer.

Blair's lips meet Chucks and he kisses her, slowly, and she wants to feel something, anything, so she kisses him back, and she remembers the last time she kissed Dan, they way she'd tried to imprint herself onto him, trying to erase the image of him tangled up in Serena, an image provided by an excited phone call from her best friend who wanted to give her all the details.

"Are you sure?" Chuck whispers against her lips and Blair nods. Then everything starts to spin again and the champagne in buzzing in her veins and she decides it's time to stop thinking and remembering. It's time to give up the charade and give into the darkness.


	5. Three-way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original author Note: takes place during 1:8, Seventeen Candles, Blair POV. Blair's life has become much more complicated, times three.

Usually Blair knows exactly what her birthday will bring. Party, sparkly gifts, the center of attention as Queen B commands everyone around her. It's the event of the year for all the Constance wanna-bes, simping and cowering before her, hoping she won't toss their inadequate gift aside for the next prettily wrapped box that is handed to her, each present better than the next. She always smiles charmingly and Nate is by her side, the golden couple, and everyone rejoices that Blair Waldorf came into this world. Why shouldn't they? It was indeed a much improved place with her in it.

This year is different.

Blair is sure of one gift she's already gotten and she's pretty sure she doesn't want it. Go ahead and buy her one of those too bright cheap-ass ghetto Zworski crystal necklaces for her to hang around her neck that spells out SLUT, because she is pretty sure after last night that's what she is.

Chuck Bass. Fucking Chuck Bass. FUCKING. CHUCK. BASS. Drunk, in the back of a limo. Blair sighs and flips her hair back, looking at her perfectly applied make up in the mirror feeling annoyed. Can she get even more cliche? Not only is she becoming the class slut, she is doing it in a way that is essentially classless. If she was going to sleep with lots of men she'd rather have illicit trysts in expensive hotel rooms with rose petals on the bed, not a hot and dirty slide across leather seats with most of her clothes still on.

She'd woke that morning with her head pounding and the vague memory of stumbling out of the back of Chuck's limo with her dress hanging off her shoulders and her lips feeling bruised and swollen. Blair had squinted at the sunlight sneaking through the curtains and wished she'd remembered to shut them all the way. Her hand groped for the intercom and Dorota's voice crackled on the other end. Blair croaked for some water and some aspirin and maybe a magic Polish hangover cure. When Dorota arrived in her room with all her requested items balanced on a small silver tray, Blair ignored the long stare of judgement and shame that came from her usually devoted maid, telling Dorota to make it fast or she'd see less of a Christmas bonus this year and grabbing the glass, tossing back the aspirin and chugging the glas of water.

"Don't you dare slut shame me, Dorota," Blair moaned a she rolled back into her soft, welcoming bed, head still pounding, reaching for the satin sleep mask on her nightstand to further block out the blazing morning sun. Maybe she could just sleep this day away, pretend it never happened, wake up tomorrow and forget everything, except it was her birthday eve and Blair had appearances to keep up. If Blair Waldorf didn't make the kind of big deal only Blair Waldorf could make about her birthday someone would surely know what's up, and with all the Gossip Girl readers prying into her life, it was only a matter of time before someone figured it out.

It had only taken lying in bed 45 minutes more with a pounding headache for Blair to get back the resolve that made her the most popular girl at school, a shoe-in for Harvard and the future social leader of the Upper Eastside, her beautiful Natey by her side. She got up, got dressed and decided to face the world with her chin held hight. Screw Gossip Girl and Chuck Bass. And Dan Humphrey. Screw him too.

Then screw him one more time, Blair thinks to herself, a smile spreading unconsciously across her face.

Oh god, get out of my head, you pork and cheese smelling snobby movie loving journal writing asshole, Blair thinks, pressing a hand to her forehead with enough force to leave a mark. It would be nice to think of Dan and not have her mind dragged into the gutter for once, just think of him with the pure unadulterated destement that she used to work up for him on a regular basis.

She is still the queen. She still will come out on top. There was one person who will still stand by her side, and marry her and make perfect babies and...

Nate.

Oh fuck, they broke up. How could she have looked over that small detail.

"Oh fuck,"

Blair doesn't realize she's spoken out loud.

That dream had slipped through her fingers. Instead she turned into another Bass conquest and someone who enjoyed slumming in Brooklyn. Nothing classy about what Blair Waldorf had become.

Her phone beeps, a text coming in, and Blair brightens a little. It's the day before her birthday, after all. The entire world doesn't know that she's been enjoying carnal pleasures with two boys who aren't her boyfriend. No one even knows that she and Nate are broken up. She can still pretend. She gazes at her reflection in the mirror, noting that she has her best disguise on. Makeup perfect. Hair in place. A new outfit that makes her look fucking hot. Everyone will want her today. And maybe by the end of it she could actually figure a way out of this mess. Blair was starting to feel like Dan and Chuck are too complicated: brooding writer and sad little rich boy with daddy issues. But Nate. Nate shone brightly in her mind. Maybe it's not over. Maybe he will save her, riding in on his white horse to preserve her maidenhood and make an honest woman out of her, and everything could go back to how it had been before.

Blair picks up the phone, expecting to find some adoring guilt-ridden text from her father, or maybe Nate begging her to see him. Instead she reads something entirely different.

"B. he loves me...OMG. S."

The phone flies across the room, shattering on the white wall across from her bed, leaving a mark and a small dent in the drywall that Blair briefly thinks should be easy for the maintenance people to fix. Well-worth the satisfaction of seeing the bringer of bad news in pieces on the floor.

"DOROTA!" Blair hollers at the top of her lungs. She can hear her maid's feet heavy on the carpet as she runs down the hall. As Dorota bursts breathlessly into the room, Blair is standing in the middle of it, her hands on her hips, stance wide, eyes narrowed, as she says in a deadly calm voice.

"I'll need a new phone."

Dorota's eyes move from Blair to the crunched phone lying on the floor then back to Blair. Her mouth hangs open.

"Now. Dorota. NOW!"

Happy fucking birthday to me, Blair thinks to herself. And the next thought is, fuck you Dan Humphrey. Fuck you. And that is the first time that Blair was actually glad she'd fucked Chuck Bass in the back of his limo.

"We were going to do it..."

Serena's words bubble happily as she holds up a shiny gold dress then throws it on the bed. Blair's fist clench as Serena talks about fucking Dan, perfectly manicured nails digging into her palms, and she thinks that if Serena makes her chip her nails, she will pay. If Blair has become the class slut she might as well go all the way and become a bad girl too. She pictures Serena's wide eyed surprise as Blair sends her fist flying into S's perfect face, imagining how it will feel as her knuckles crash into her cheekbone. How would Dan like his lady love with a purpling bruise blossoming on her perfect skin? Blair unclenches her fist when she realizes that clocking Serena would probably make S. look even more sympathetic and the last thing she wants to do is increase the chance of sympathy sex.

Blair's mouth is a tight line as Serena prattles on, Blair ignoring every word.

She won't call Dan. Not ever again. Since the text this morning he'd lost all Blair Waldorf privileges. No more movie references. No more late night booty calls. No more setting foot in Brooklyn. He didn't know it yet but he was cut off. She promises herself that she will not look at his mouth the next time she sees him. Would not think about kissing him. She will just repeat the text in her brain, reminding herself what happened when she left the safety and security of placid Upper Eastside boys. Boys like Nate didn't fall in love with your best friend.

Or did they?

Blair rubs her temples, trying to block out Serena's inane chatter as she shows her yet another dress while doing her her best imitation of someone who takes ritalin for ADHD and not just to get high, flipping open a magazine to show her some article at the same time, then smiling at Blair, lips moving but the words seem far away and garbled, and Blair realizes that Serena is asking her a question that Blair just does not understand.

"What?" Blair's tone is short and annoyed. Not much different than it usually is. Serena, in her obtuseness, doesn't notice the additional sharpness in Blair's response.

"So what do I do about Vanessa?"

Blair stares at Serena for a moment. Who the fuck was Vanessa? And why was Serena talking about her? And why should Blair even care?

"You know, Vanessa. Dan's best friend."

Blair can't stop her eyes from rolling at that point. Great. How the hell did everyone end up wanting Dan Humphrey? How did she end up wanting Dan Humphrey? Who in the hell was Dan Humphrey to the world?

Blair shovels some shitty half-assed suggestion to her friend. She thinks she saw it in Cosmo at her therapist's office once. Something about how when you're dating someone they become your best friend and their best friend becomes the number two best friend. Serena eats it up, her golden head nodding, her vacant eyes imitating some sort of understanding, and she hugs Blair for the fourth or fifth time in the last hour and declares she is so happy they are besties again. Blair hugs her back because if there was one thing Blair is good at, it's faking it.

It's Nate's call that gives her the plan.

"And, um, I've got a birthday present for you. It's, uh, something special."

She can tell he's stoned. But he's so much easier to deal with when he's stoned. Blair says goodbye and starts to fantasize. Which piece at the jewelers did he pick out. It's going to be perfect.

She's stuck in a strange three-way. Dan. Chuck. Nate. Each of them tugging at her. Each of them revolting her. Nate is the answer. She can have it all back and no one ever has to know what a mess she's made of things lately. Nate will be by her side at her party, she'll wear the diamond necklace, he'll dote on her, all eyes will be on them. No one will know they broke up. No one will know about the limo. No one will know about Brooklyn. All she needs is Nate and Blair to get her life back.

"DOROTA!" Blair growls as she stalks out out of the elevator and into the penthouse. "Call my stylelist. I have a party to get ready for."

The party ends up being ho hum. Despite her big plan, Nate is actually MIA and Blair is not happy to be the center of attention because everyone keeps asking about him. She huffs around the bar, sulking and sipping a gin and tonic, feeling the alcohol buzz lightly through her veins. Serena is dancing, yelling at Blair across the dance floor that Dan will be coming later. Blair strikes a pose of what she thinks is elegant suffering, torn between the narrative of either or boyfriend standing her up - what tragedy - or that he's not here because he has a really big surprise planned for later. Both are lies. Nate said he'd be here and he's not.

Serena is working her way around the room, spilling over her golden charm and Blair hates her more than ever. Chuck is in the corner, glowering at her, and their conversation from earlier plays over in her head.

"Doesn't it strike you as a bit of a coincidence…"

Blair hates him at that moment, for inserting doubt into her mind, making her think that maybe Nate is using her just as much as she's planning on using him. She hates Bass for destroying her plan to rise from the pile of ashes her life has become. But he's right. Nate isn't there.

Serena's bell-like laugh makes it's way across the room and Blair's eyes narrow.

Something has to give.

Blair feels like she's going to gag, the air in the room feels hot and stagnant, full of cigarette smoke and perfume and the sticky sweet smell of alcohol. People are getting drunker, starting to get clumsy, bumping into each other. It's her birthday and Blair would like to be anywhere else but here.

"I need some air." Blair mutters to no one in particular. With that, she turns and makes her way across the crowded apartment to the elevator, pushing the button that will take her down to the street, away from all of this. Maybe there she can finally clear her head. The doors slide open and she steps in side. A curl of hair falls down onto her shoulder and Blair doesn't even bother to fix it, no longer caring to present the perfect appearance. She just watches the numbers above the door tick down.

15, 7, 5, first floor, DING

Her heels click across the lobby and Blair feels the tears start pool on her lower lids. It's been one fucked up birthday. Finally she pushes through the heavy brass doors of the building, almost tripping, spilling awkwardly onto the sidewalk, and she feels a hand reach out to steady her.

"Hey,"

Blair looks up at the familiar voice, full of warmth, happy to see her and blinks. It's him. She shakes his hand off and pulls herself up to her full height, looking him square in the face.

"Fuck you, Dan Humphrey."

The warmth that was in his eyes turns to puzzlement, his smile fades away. Blair settles back into the comfort of insults. Just like old times.

"You don't belong here, Cabbage Patch." she sneers, smacking his leather jacket with her hand, feeling the sting on her palm.

"What the hell, Blair?" Dan sputters, surprised.

Blair's breath catches and she knows what she's about to say will blow everything wide open, leaving her vulnerable.

"You love her?"

Dan stares at her, his mouth open.

"I…"

Blair turns away from him. In that moment she knows he gets it. He can't have Blair but he can't have Serena either.

"Goddammit Blair, what am I supposed to do?" Dan says in a quiet hiss behind her. "It's not like you and I are dating. It's not like you would ever date me. We fuck each other. That's all. You made that clear."

"Crystal clear," Blair hisses back, which is why she's just as angry at herself as she is at the fact that the loser from Brooklyn is daring to be in love with her airheaded finicky best friend.

"So why do you care? Why can't I be a normal guy and date a girl and maybe fall in love…"

maybe fall in love

Blair turns around to face Dan again. Her eyes are wide, staring at him, then narrowing into angry slits.

"Maybe fall in love?" Blair spits out, "so besides the fact that you're basically cheating on Serena with me, she tells me that you love her and you tell me that maybe you will fall in love with her?"

She walks towards him and Dan takes a step back.

"Are you just trying to fuck her? Was I not enough? Whisper in her ear that you love her and she'll lie back and spread wide for you?"

Dan blinks at Blair's words.

"Maybe fall in love…"

"Why not, Blair," Dan grits back. "Why not? Serena likes me. She's available. We can go in public together. Maybe fall in love because I have no other options and I don't want to just fuck around with you, because…"

Blair stops, speechless. What is Dan about to say. Because he needs more than sex. Because he wants connection, because she won't allow him to love her, he wants to be able to love someone else.

Dan runs a hand over his short hair and parts of it remain sticking up. He stares at her, eyes boring into hers, and Blair sees something there that almost scares her. This is far from the way she planned her life.

"We," Blair stumbles over the words. "We can't…"

Dan is closer to her now, his hand reaching out, fingers touching the inside of her wrist, and all of the sudden Blair wants him like she's never wanted anyone else before, and it almost hurts. And she knows this more real than anything she's ever experienced, and all of the sudden all of her juvenile machinations and manipulations to make her life come out perfect seem to be just that. Young, stupid, short-sighted. There is something bigger than her in the world and right now that something is looking at her with soft brown eyes.

"So let me see if I can fall in love with someone else." Dan says quietly.

Blair wants to say yes. She wants to walk away and let him go, but she can't. She can't imagine a world without him in it, even if she hate him. She doesn't answer, just stares at him.

A girl bounces up to Dan, hooking her arm through his, cutting the tension between Dan and Blair, tilting her head towards Blair.

"Hey Dan, who's this?"

Dan jerks his eyes away from Blair's and blinks in surprise to see the girl standing there.

"Oh, uh. Vanessa, this is Blair. Blair, Vanessa."

The girl smiles widely but not in a very friendly way and Blair feels tears start to catch in her throat. She mumbles something to the girl, not looking at Dan, then pushes her way back into the building, back to the elevator, back to the apartment where the party has gotten even wilder. She glances at her phone and sees that the time is 12:01. She's seventeen. Nate never arrived, didn't even call. Dan has made them more complicated than ever before. Her life is not fixed, it's an even bigger mess than when she woke up this morning.

Blair pushes her way through the crowd of dancers until she makes it to the balcony, shutting the door and leaving the noise of the party behind. She's staring out over the city, finally letting her tears roll down her cheeks, when she hears her name murmured from behind. It's not who she was hoping would be saying her name.

"Blair,"

She turns to see Chuck standing at the doorway.

"I'm not in the mood, Chuck," Blair sniffs, "this is pretty much the worst birthday."

"Maybe that can be salvaged." he holds up a box from her favorite jeweler and flips it open. Inside is the necklace that had only been a dream.

Blair has been looking for love. For sex, but in that moment she decides that what she wants is power. And there is one person who she can truly rule over the Upper Eastside with. Not Nate, stoned and simpering and always conflicted. Certainly not Dan. Dan scares her in ways that she can't handle. Chuck Bass. Chuck Bass is the easy answer.

She moves towards him, tilting her head up and for the second time in 24 hours Chuck Bass kisses her.


End file.
